Whittling Away Time in Berkeley
So, let me tell you about my latest endeavor in woodworking. You know, that thing I picked up a few years back when I realized I spent too much time online looking at woodworking forums instead of actually doing it? Yeah, this was one of those projects that started off with a clear vision and ended up looking like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. But that’s part of the fun, right?
It all began on one of those crisp autumn mornings. The kind of day where the leaves outside are just the right orange and red hues, and you can smell the wood smoke wafting from neighbors’ chimneys. I’d been staring at a beautiful piece of cherry wood I picked up at the local lumber yard in Berkeley. It was raw and rough, but oh, that rich reddish tint got me dreaming. I figured I could create a sweet little coffee table for my sunroom. You know, somewhere to put my cup of joe while I read or poke around in my gardening books.
The Big Idea
I sketched out some rough designs on a napkin while I sipped my morning coffee. I had visions of sleek lines and playful curves in my head. If only you could see that napkin… it would make a great exhibit titled “Dreams of Wood.” I headed into my garage workshop, which was more of a mess than a well-organized paradise. You should’ve seen it—sawdust everywhere, my table saw sitting in the corner like a moody teenager not wanting to be bothered. Were it not for the way my neighbor’s cats loved to lounge on my scraps, I’d have questioned my life choices.
Anyway, armed with my plans, I grabbed my Ryobi circular saw. I could almost hear the hum of excitement as I made my first cut. The sweet smell of that cherry wood filled the air, and it was intoxicating. I was on a roll, cutting pieces to size, and I thought to myself, “This is going to be one fine table.”
But, of course, you know how that goes—life loves to throw curveballs.
The Slip-Up
On one fateful evening, I was putting together the legs, and I realized my dimensions were off. Who would’ve thought I’d miscalculated the height? So, there I was, looking at a coffee table with legs that belonged on a dining set. Just, why? I almost threw in the towel and said, “Forget it! Maybe I should just stick to browsing woodworking blogs.”
But then, out of nowhere, I remembered a lesson I learned long ago from my old man. He used to say, “If it doesn’t fit, just adapt.” I laughed because my dad had a habit of mixing advice with an amateur philosophy that worked. I decided to chop those legs down to size instead of giving up on the whole project.
Still, I hadn’t put a single joint together yet, and I was already questioning my sanity. I picked up my trusty wood glue—Titebond III, because let’s be honest, what’s a project without a little sticky mess? I could feel the tension in the air as I lined everything up, just praying I wouldn’t screw it up. After some wrestling, sweat, and maybe a few curse words, everything finally came together. It was more of a “together-at-last” moment than a “let’s-celebrate” one, but hey, it worked.
The Finishing Touch
Fast forward a week later, I was working on the finish. I opted for Danish oil because I heard it was straightforward and would really bring out that cherry wood’s natural beauty. I remember the way it glided over the surface. The shine brought out the depth in the grain, almost like looking at the wood through an old pair of glasses—everything just popped.
But, as expected, I had another hiccup. I forgot to wipe off the excess oil. I mean, who lets their attention wander during a finishing process? You should’ve seen my face when the table turned into a sticky mess. Before that, it had all felt so promising. A couple of hours of Googling how to repair a glazed finish later, and I was back to square one.
Eventually, I managed to salvage it with fine steel wool and a little elbow grease. I laughed out loud when I finally got it right. Sometimes, I wish I could bottle that moment up—the real joy that comes from solving a problem you thought would end in disaster.
A Finished Product—Sort Of
After what felt like a lifetime of measures and missteps, my coffee table finally made its debut. It’s not perfect—there are a few uneven edges, and if you look closely, you can see where I might’ve hurried a bit. But, honestly? I love it. Every little flaw tells a story, a moment of frustration turned into a moment of triumph. It’s got character. And when friends come over, I proudly set my mug on my handiwork, sip my coffee, and appreciate the laughter and chaos it took to make it.
In the end, if there’s one takeaway from this rather circuitous tale of wood and woe, it’s this: if you’re thinking about trying something like this, just go for it. You’re going to trip, stumble, maybe even fall flat on your face—but that’s where the good stuff happens. You’ll learn what it means to create something with your hands, raw and unfiltered, and that’s a heck of a feeling.
So here’s the deal: next time you’re feeling inspired—or even if you’re just sitting there scrolling through your phone—don’t hesitate. Pick up that old saw, grab a piece of wood, and get to it. You’ll be amazed at what you can make, no matter how messy it gets. And who knows? You might just rediscover a bit of joy along the way, like I did.
